


Heart

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean/Reader - Freeform, F/M, Language, Mild Gore, NSFW, Reader-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine having gentle, loving sex with Dean after he finds out that you're not dead.</p><p>When Dean gets a phone call from the reader mid-solo-hunt, his blood runs cold. He arrives at her last-known location, only to have his worst fears realized. <br/>The reader awakens in a hospital, battered and bruised, but alive. Her first thought is of Dean, the second, how to get home.<br/>When Dean returns to the bunker after a hunt and sees the reader, he doesn't dare believe his eyes. Surely, it's too good to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart

The place was too quiet.

Dean pressed his back against the wall, listening for any sounds. His ears damn near rang with the effort. All he could hear was the thundering of his own heart and the soft sound of his own breath.

His palms were sweaty, making his grip on his gun slick. He adjusted his fingers quickly and spun around the corner, casing the room quickly and efficiently.

The furniture was upturned and smashed, any upholstery slashed to ribbons and stained with suspicious brown marks. Viscous red-black liquid was splattered over some spots on the floor and walls. The light fixture overhead was near torn from the ceiling, hanging by wires and coated with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. In some spots, there were relatively fresh boot-prints. They were small in comparison to Dean's.

His heart tripped over its beats when he saw them; hope and fear flaring to life and making his stomach turn. Dean cleared the room and moved on to the next. The cupboards in the hall closet were empty except for a few rat carcasses and nasty-looking spiders.

The kitchen was in shambles.

Dean lowered his gun at the scene, swallowing thickly.

"Sam." Dean meant for it to be a yell, but his brother's name emerged as a hoarse call.

The floor creaked overhead, stairs groaning with the younger Winchester's weight.

"Upstairs is clear-" Sam's words cut off abruptly as he entered the room.

That thick, black-red liquid was everywhere. It coated the floor in wide pools that were smeared with drag-marks that were clearly from a body. Human blood, redder and dried, was spattered among it all.

What made Dean's stomach lurch wasn't the sight of the blood.

It was the crushed remains of a tiny, silver device that had once been a cell-phone. That, and the shattered, broken bits of what looked like a gun. A gun that Dean recognized.

Dean stumbled toward the bits of metal numbly, stooping to pick them up. Dried blood flaked off in his hand as he thumbed the worn-off serial number.

His eyes burned, back of his throat aching and tightening up. His finger clenched tight around the remains of the gun as his body shook.

A low, broken string of syllables escaped from his lips.

 

 

It was overly-warm.

Something thick and scratchy covered you from chest to toes.

There was a monotonous beeping from somewhere off to your left. Your mouth felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved down your throat.

Familiar scents teased your nose. Sharp and almost acrid, they made you wrinkle up your nose and breathe out harshly.

A hospital.

The question was _why_?

You cast your mind back, filtering through the groggy feelings and pain.

The hunt. That was right.

Memories flickered like a film reel in your head.

The house had seemed empty when you arrived; devoid of life. A quick casing of the ground floor had revealed nothing. So you'd scaled the stairs and scoped out the second floor.

The...whatever the fuck it'd been had been lying in wait.

As soon as you cleared the stair's top landing, it'd launched itself out of the bedroom ahead.

Your head had cracked against the floor, making your vision cloud and stars to wink before your eyes. Sharp teeth bit deep into your belly, startling you back into consciousness.

You'd managed to fire off a shot, hitting the thing right between the eyes. It'd been enough to drive it back and give you room to get up and moving into a better position to fight. You'd held off the thing until you'd run out of bullets in the kitchen.

So you'd tried your last-resort plan, knowing all too well that it was already too late for that. With a carving knife in one hand and your cell-phone in the other, you'd hit number one on speed dial.

"Y/N, hey, how's the hunt-" Dean's deep voice had washed over you, numbing some of the pain and easing your ragged nerves.

You'd taken a shuddering breath and shook your head hard. Your eyes stayed locked on the doorway to the kitchen.

"It's bad. Listen, I dunno what the fuck this thing is. But, uh, but it got the best of me."

"Y/N," There was a scuffle from his side and the distant sound of car doors slamming. "We're on our way."

There was a wet snarl from the doorway. You drew your body up and steeled yourself.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I gotta go. I love you." Tears were blurring your vision.

"Y/N, please don't hang up- Dammit, Sammy, drive faster! Y/N, get outta there. Hide, run, I don't care. Don't do anything stupid for fuck's sake-"

Claws scrabbled against the tile.

You dropped the phone, dimly hearing it crunch beneath the thing's foot.

What happened during that last fight was a tangled mess of darkness, blood, and pain.

All you could remember was dragging the thing's body out into the back yard and lighting it up. After which, you were pretty sure you'd driven a car before completely blacking out.

You braced yourself, cracking one eye open and releasing a sigh of relief when the room came into view.

Vision? Check.

You tensed your muscles, wincing a few times at soreness and pain.

Mobility? Check.

After a brief conversation with a nurse and a visit from the doctor, you were filled in on the rest of your wounds and supposed history. The insurance, fake ID, and other information in your wallet had saved you a hell of a lot of trouble.

In the hospital room's bathroom, you dressed in the clothes the nurse had provided for you from the lost and found.

In the mirror's reflection, you studied your bruised and battered body. Your belly was flecked with the scars of old hunts. Only now, there was a definite divet where the bastard of a monster had chewed out a hunk.

Luckily, it'd been nothing terribly important; missing your intestines and internal goodies by scant inches.

Neat, little stitches held your flesh together there and over one of your forearms. Your skin was pale from blood-loss where it wasn't bruised or scraped.

You thanked your rarely lucky stars that the clothes you'd been given were bigger than you needed. Anything more form-fitting would have bothered your stitches.

Your boots were salvageable, saving you the irritation of ill-fitting shoes taken from the lost and found. Lighter a few pints of blood and some flesh, with only the clothes on your back and a set of car keys in your hand, you set out into the world with one destination in mind.

 

 

 

They didn't even have a body to burn.

Dean slumped against the car's seat, hands hanging loosely at his sides as he stared blankly at the windshield.

He felt so fucking empty. It was like every bit of himself that had grown attached to Y/N had died with her. His chest felt achy and raw all the time.

Dean had held out a small shred of hope; calling every hospital in the area with her name. But, one by one, they'd all come up with negatives.

Day after day passed and the damn ache hadn't faded any. Dean felt wrong, lost without Y/N there. It was like when Sam'd died. It was like a fucking piece of him was missing. And it was driving him _crazy_.

Sam pulled the Impala into the bunker's garage. The growl of the engine cut out, leaving behind a deafening silence that made Dean's ears ring. They unloaded the trunk and shuffled down the stairs.

Sam muttered something about the lights overhead. Dean made a noncommittal sound and shrugged his bag higher on his shoulder.

Too caught up in his own thoughts, Dean missed the punched-out noise Sam made as they entered the library.

Sam's heavy arm smacked into his chest and made him lift his head.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, heart stuttering before picking up double-time.

There, standing beside one of the library's tables was Y/N.

Her skin was a little paler than normal. Her hair looked like it was damp. She was swathed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie that were too big for her. Her eyes were wide, a set of scratches standing out brown and red over one cheek. Her lips parted.

"Dean. Sam."

Fuck. That was _her_ voice. But it couldn't be _her_.

Y/N...There was no way she could've survived, not with all of that blood back there. Was she a ghost? Had she tied herself to the bunker or something?

Then, Y/N was moving. Her smaller body rushing at the two brothers until, with a soft huff, she collided.

Dean lifted his arms automatically when Y/N grabbed at him. She pulled Sam right in, too.

For a minute, they just stood like that, a sandwich of limbs and bodies. Until Sam untangled himself and reached out to ruffle Y/N's hair.

She swatted half-heartedly at him with a small, affectionate smile.

She moved to step away from Dean, but he wasn't having it.

Y/N was _here_. She was alive. She was in his arms; warm and solid and breathing.

She looked up at him with those pretty eyes all wide and soft. Her arms tightened a little and she blinked hard and fast.

Dean felt his throat get hot and tight. He took a shuddering breath and crushed her to his chest.

Y/N made a pained noise that immediately had him loosening his grip and getting panicky.

"I'm fine, just a little worse for wear."

Sam exhaled a shaky laugh.

"How did you do it? What happened?"

Dean listened to Y/N explain what had gone down back at the monster-house.

His insides twisted when she recounted the way she'd blacked out from blood loss in her borrowed car. Some good samaritan had found her and she'd been air-lifted to a hospital a county over. She'd woken up a few days ago, light some blood and flesh. After checking out, she'd stolen another car or two, hitched, and made her way back to the bunker.

"Why didn't you call?" Dean asked, jaw tight.

"I had no money. No phone. I hitched the last half because I kept running out of gas. There aren't exactly pay-phones anymore. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you guys-"

Anger burned hot through Dean, setting his blood boiling.

He stood up quickly, dragging Y/N with him toward their bedroom.

Sam made a move to protest. Dean silenced him with a look.

The door slammed after them with a loud bang.

 

 

 

You watched as Dean paced back and forth, his hands raking through his hair.

After a moment, he whirled, face set in angry lines.

"Do you know what that did to me an' Sam? We showed up at that place and it's emptier than a tomb. 'Cept for the blood, your busted gun and cell. No trace of you. I looked everywhere. I called every goddamn hospital. I-I-"

The anger seemed to gust out of him suddenly.

His shoulders slumped as he reached out, hands grasping desperately.

"I thought-We thought you were _dead_ , Y/N. Thought that the monster had killed you and gotten away. And I-"

Dean glanced up, then, and your heart twisted. Those green eyes were wet with unshed tears, the rims red. He blinked quickly, jaw clenching and hands tightening around your arms.

"I thought you were _gone_. I was a wreck. Couldn't hunt right. Couldn't think right. God _fucking_ dammit, Y/N. I thought you were fucking gone, I'd never see you again. Never hear your voice or your laugh. Never feel you in my arms again. And I just...I couldn't do it."

You lost the battle not to cry, tears tracking down your cheeks as you flung yourself into Dean's arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It was a mantra muffled against his chest.

You could feel his breath ruffling your hair, his hands and arms wrapping tight around your body.

Dean exhaled slowly, his breath shuddering on the way out.

One of his hands lifted, fingers curling beneath your chin and raising your face. Something heavy and warm swam in his eyes. He bent, touching his forehead to your own.

"I just...I _need_ you right now, Y/N."

You nodded slowly, reaching up to trace your fingers over the edge of his jaw.

He leaned into the small touch before bringing his lips to your's.

Dean kissed you soft and sweet, the gentleness igniting something warm and achy in the pit of your stomach and the cavity of your chest.

His hands ran over your body; smoothing over your hair, still damp with rain. They drew down the zipper of your hoodie and unfastened your pant's drawstrings. He helped your from your clothes and boots, divesting himself of his own in the process.

With infinite tenderness, Dean lifted you and settled you back onto the bed. His wight made the mattress dip as he braced himself over you.

He started with your mouth, making sure to taste every inch. He caught at your lower lip, tongue tracing along the curve.

Dean brushed butterfly kisses over your cheeks, eyelids, and jaw before sucking softly at the column of your neck.

When he feathered his hands over your breasts and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, you let out a quiet keening noise.

 

 

 

 

 

Dean made it his mission to relearn every inch of Y/N.

He ran his hands over her skin; feeling every old scar and blemish.

He kissed over the newer ones, carefully and sweetly.

He tasted her lips, her skin, everything.

He listened to her sounds; the soft sighs, quiet whimpers, and low moans.

Dean took everything in and tried to say what he was feeling in the only way he knew how. His heart felt so damn full, it ached in his chest, heavy like a weight. But with every moment, it grew lighter and lighter.

By the time Dean settled between Y/N's legs, he was shaking, sweat beading along his spine. When the head of his cock nudged at her entrance, they both groaned.

"Dean, please." Y/N licked her lips, fingers digging in at his hips. " _Please_."

Slowly, Dean eased in, taking his time. His brain buzzed at the feel of her, all hot and wet and squeezing around him. He stirred his hips, setting up a rhythm that was slow and gentle. It was one he'd only used a few times before. And it felt an awful lot like... _making love_.

Y/N had said those words to Dean a few times before. But Dean had always been to scared to make that final leap. Now, though...With his chest all at once too-tight and too-big, his insides fluttering and filled with warmth...

 

 

 

You raised your head to meet Dean's lips when he leaned down.

He swallowed your small sound when his cock dragged right over your sweet spot inside.

Your fingers stroked over his shoulders, arms, and back.

Dean's eyes fluttered open and shut, the green irises darkened, only a thin ring of color. His cheeks and chest were flushed, freckles standing out against the pink. His lips were reddened, parted around panting breaths as his hips rolled between your's.

Every once and a while, a heady noise would drop from his mouth. A long groan or punched-out hum that was like music to your ears.

He slid in and out, filling you and withdrawing, driving you higher and higher.

The way his muscles played beneath his skin had you biting at your lips. His tattoo rippled over his chest, black ink playing across his skin.

Dean ducked his head, breaths coming harder and faster as he kissed you again. He adjusted the angle of his hips, thrusting against that spot inside you that had stars blooming behind your eyes.

" _Dean_!"

You cried out, thighs tightening against his hips as the first waves of your orgasm ripped through your body.

Dean groaned, head falling to rest against your collar bone as his hips lost their rhythm. Hot breath gusted over your damp skin. Warm, wet lips mouthed at your neck before falling away.

Dean came with a loud gasp of your name, body shuddering around and inside of your's.

After a moment, he pulled out and discarded the used condom. He dragged the blankets up and pulled you against his chest.

A few lazy kisses were exchanged as he ran his hands up and down your back soothingly.

Dean sighed, eyelashes fluttering almost...shyly. Your heart gave a tiny flickering movement in your chest.

You pressed your lips against his lips and skimmed your nose along his jaw.

"I love you, Dean."

His arms tightened around you. There was a beat of silence in which you nestled against his chest and closed your eyes, simply listening to his heart.

"I...love you, too, Y/N."


End file.
